Indulgence
by Naydriel
Summary: A season of festivities brings together two people who are not looking for anything more committed than a quick snog. (AU) M-rating as a precaution.


**Indulgence**

**Disclaimed: **All is owned by J.K. Rowling. I have simply borrowed them for my own imagination with no intent to make money off or assume them as my own.

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**Chapter One**

**The Start of the Season**

Southern England is home to the city of Devon, where along the Otter River one will find the quaint township of The Ottery St. Catchpole. On Friday the 29th of November, well after the sun had set, if one listened intently they may pick up the elusive resonance of laughter and bellowing coming from over the hills some miles away. That evening The Burrow, hidden well away from the township behind mountains and strategically placed hedges, was host to the Order of the Phoenix gathering.

Since the end of the Second Wizarding War, at the beginning of each Christmas season Molly and Arthur Weasley hosted the Order members for a social meeting. This was no mere sit-down discussion and it generally involved very little discussion. Rather, the gathering involved copious amounts of alcohol and delectable sustenance to maintain the guests throughout the evening.

The every first gathering of this sort had been organised by the Weasley matriarch as a way for the Order members to catch up. At the immediate close of the war there had been many functions held by the Ministry of Magic in commemoration. Initially, all those who had fought had been caught up not only in the mandated functions but also the Wizengamot War trials – many of which lasted right through Hallows Eve. As such, the first gathering had been an effort to reunite the members of the Order in a relaxed milieu.

The invitations remained unchanged year after year and the attendance remained constant. As every year, the big white open marquee was erected in the backyard, warming charms cast, chairs levitated out, tables transfigured, and food and drinks prepared. Never a formal gathering, the guests helped where they could and snacked as they moved.

On this day Hermione Granger had been running late. Updating and filing the scrolls for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had taken an hour and thirty seven minutes more than she had anticipated. It seemed that someone had forgotten to authorise the outgoing blue parchments in preparation for endorsement. Landing at the front of the Burrow at a gentle run, she gathered her robes higher as she bolted towards the house, the smells of pastries floated towards her and the noises of the raucous party lifted from around the house.

From the kitchen window Molly Weasley watched the young woman hastily make her way towards the house. Her hair, as abundant as ever, tied up at the back of her head bounced zealously as she approached. When the girl caught sight of the Weasley matriarch at the kitchen windows, her face broke out into a smile.

Door swung wide, Hermione halted as she stepped through the threshold.

"Good evening Molly!"

"Hello dear," Molly turned towards Hermione to envelop her into a hug, "it has been too long."

"Yes, work has been –"

"- busy, tiring, monstrous. Do tell me more," a joyous voice interrupted from across the room.

"Ginny!" The two friends quickly congregated near end of the wooden dining table. It was not long before hugs and greetings turned to mindless chatter and other chit-chat.

Mrs Weasley interjected, "take a breath girls. Now do help with the rest of the pastries," whilst transferring the trays of pastries from the oven to the table.

Ginny wasted no time in levitating the trays, as Hermione and her trailed behind the floating pastries towards the tent in the backyard. The conversations within flowed haphazardly as the girls deposited the trays and sought out some empty chairs.

The girls talked about the upcoming engagement party and Ginny's move into twelve Grimmauld Place, "The place is a mess! I don't see how Harry has lived there for so long without giving it a thorough clean," she complained.

"You remember we did give it a once over when he moved it."

"Yes, but it really is not ready for the party."

Hermione sympathised with the girl's situation, "Well, sounds like you have a lot of work ahead of you."

Ginny sheepishly glanced towards her friend, "We. We have a lot of work ahead of us." The presumptuous directive drove both women to laughter.

In between her bouts of laughter Hermione agreed to help "Well of course, how else would my weekend be complete without it."

As the brunette and the red head continued to chatter, the party went on around them. The alcoholic refreshments, of Muggle and Wizarding origins, were a courtesy of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. As were the Wizarding Party Favours – some of which were liberally deployed on unsuspecting guests and others were sporadically exploding very much like Muggle party poppers yet more spectacularly.

It was sometime later that Hermione excused herself from the crowd and escaped to the kitchen. She had been liberally consuming some brand of Muggle liquor for the better part of the last two hours and now desperately needed to hydrate. Sipping from a glass of water she watched the festivities from the safety of the kitchen.

Harry and Ginny had escaped from the crowds a little after she had. Ginny appeared to be directing an extremely large piece of the Fondant Fancy towards her fiancé's mouth. Caught unawares, Harry was now sporting fondant icing and buttercream. Further towards the centre of the marquee the twins had an air of deviousness about them. Following their line of sight, Hermione spotted Tonks and Remus standing around the end of one of the tables. Nothing looked to be out of place, yet the twins were giggling and nudging each other in the ribs like they were still eight years old. Hermione watched in fascination, she knew them well enough to know that something was coming, but she herself thought it unwise to mess with the metamorphmagus Auror.

And then it happened – the Victoria Sponge cake exploded. There was a pause as the guests scrutinised the cause of the blast and laughter rang out as Remus and Tonks were left to investigate their surroundings whilst covered in morsels of jam and whipped cream sponge cake. Fred and George had legged it – George having to shove past Lavender Brown to make his escape.

Lavender Brown. She was not meant to be here. This was after all an event for Order members, and she definitely was not an Order member. Of course there was no hard or fast rule regarding guests. Hermione did not ponder on the exactitude of invite-only-party-etiquette, instead she grabbed the closest pitcher and made her second escape of the evening.

The chilled air greeted Hermione. She stood on the steps for a moment, taking in overstressed intakes of air. Unscrewing the bottle top she did not hesitate to take a big gulp of the ember liquid.

She gagged.

Once the coughing passed, Hermione surveyed the bottle in her hand; in the minimal light she could identify the title as 'Schletters Fine Whiskey' in yellow letters set against maroon. She vaguely remembered Harry and Ron ordering this particular brand of whiskey on one occasion at the Hogs Head. It had a harsh taste.

Taking a smaller sip the second time, Hermione made her way around the large potted Flutterby bushes. These had been here since Bill and Fleur's wedding back in 1996. They had grown quiet immensely and were in dire need of a trimming. Shrugging off her black robes, whilst still maintaining a grip on the opaque whiskey bottle – shifting it from one hand to the next –, Hermione proceeded to flatten her robes on the grass beneath the kitchen window. Inelegantly, she made her way onto her robes.

She leaned back against the wall of the house. Hermioned was quite settled in this spot, slowly consuming more of the horrid ember liquid. She listened to the laughter and commotion drifting from the backyard and she revelled in this space and the warming sensation that erupted through her chest and stomach each time she took a gulp of Schletters.

A third the way through the bottle the front door opened and someone ventured out into the cold.

"Miss Granger, this chill may be the death of you," snarled the figure in his all too familiar drawl. It was the sort of drawl that took many years to perfect. It reminded her of whiskey. It was smooth, elegant and completely acidic.

"Not to worry, Professor. Schletters is keeping me well and warm."

"Miss Granger, I have not been in a professorial role over you in some years." Nor had she seen the man since the War trials. Hermione was well aware that Severus Snape had always had an invite to the Burrow for such festivities, but his absence thus far had led most, even her, to the conclusion that his nonattendance would continue indefinitely. Yet here he was standing before her with a drink in hand.

"Sorry, Severus," even she was taken aback by her own brazenness to use his given name, "some habits appear to be quite difficult to break."

Severus Snape moved closer to where Hermione sat. The light emitting from the house caught the angles of his face. He looked to be in thought. It was not until after he took a swig of his beverage that he spoke again, "I do hope that setting fire to my robes and stealing from my stores is not some of these habits you are having trouble breaking."

"You are not exactly wearing robes, _sir_."

"Touché, Miss Granger –"

"– Hermione."

"Very well, Hermione," in the darkness their eyes met briefly as he considered her position, "I shall leave you and Schletters to your solitude."

As Severus Snape turned to leave, Hermione spoke up hurriedly and boldly, "You know the problem with solitude-" the light from the kitchen illuminated his arched eyebrow as he paused in his retreat and watched curiously, "it does get awfully lonely."

"Does it, _Hermione_?"

"Why don't you join me, Professor?"

The corners of his lips lifted slightly into a smirk as he regarded her once again. The girl – woman – was sitting on what appeared to be her robes. She appeared quite possessive of the Schletters bottle of what looked like the 'Fine Whiskey' imported from the Scottish distillery. She was sitting cross-legged, her legs clad in what looked distinctively like Muggle jeans, as she slouched back against the wall in a plain blue t-shirt.

Glancing at his glass of Ogden's, Severus emptied his glass, before meeting her eyes fiercely, "You should find yourself lucky that I have not already obliterated you for using my given name." In a few strides he was settling himself down next to her against the wall. His legs stretched out in front of him, he offered her his glass, "It appears my glass requires a refill."

This time when she looked into his face, she could have sworn she saw the dawning of a smile. Her smile beamed back at him only to find him in complete smirking-mode.

"My pleasure, _Severus_," she was baiting him and he knew it.

"What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What about you? We have not seen you at one of these things since… well ever."

"You may not realise this, Hermione, but large social gatherings are not exactly where I find myself at ease." There was a definite twinkle in his eyes.

"Bat of the dungeons, I never would have guessed –" Instinctively she slammed her free palm up to her lips, "Sorry, I didn't –"

"Don't fret. I do hope you did not think me oblivious to what the student body thought of me."

"Well, no of course not –"

"Yes, you lot were never very discrete." Severus chuckled. It was a hearty, stomach-tightening sort of laughter that caught her by surprise. She did not have the heart to interrupt his laughter, instead Hermione just watched him, unabashed. He was sitting there next to her, holding a glass of whiskey, dressed in quite Muggle attire. He was sheltered in the customary black, from his dress shirt with the many buttons to his slacks and shoes. From the lit light they had outside, she could tell that he must be sleeping more and eating better – his eyes did not appear as sunken as the last time she had seen him. And he appeared to have filled out a little – whether this was the trick of the light or whether it was the lack of cover from his robes, she was not sure. What she did know was –

The fireworks overhead interrupted their reprieve. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin rolled their heads back and gazed up at the sky. Fred and George had definitely outdone themselves this year. The amount of fireworks the twins deployed could put national New Year's celebrations to shame, "If those boys had put half the effort they put in their inventions into their studies ..." Severus chided as the two of them watched the whole show.

Just as the fireworks eased off, Hermione gulped down another shot of the whiskey, with more success than she had had the first time. When she turned to peek at Severus, she was confronted by the fact that it seemed that he had the same idea. She could smell the freshness of the grass and the smoke from the fireworks, and she detected some musk in the air. Well aware that they were both engaged in the same activity, Hermione let her eyes wondered over her former Professor's face. He had thin lips, and a strong jawline that came up to equally sharp cheekbones. His hair, so black, hung around his face on either side hiding his ears, barely brushing his shoulders.

On her way back from his shoulders, her eyes stopped at his lips, her own caught between her teeth, before she met his eyes. She wondered if he had been watching her. She wondered how transparent her thoughts may be. At that point, Hermione leaned over, closing the short distance between herself and her former Potions Professor, ex-Death Eater, and pressed her lips against his.

He remained still. Hermione shuffled her body closer to Severus' and pushed to deepen her kiss. When she glided the tip of her tongue along his lips, was when he she felt he finally respond to her, in a very big way. One arm wrapped around her waist and the other on her cheek he tilted her head ever so slightly upwards, kissing her fully. Pushing past her parted lips, his tongue sought out hers. He was making up very quickly for his earlier irresponsiveness. Her bottle of Schletters long forgotten, with both her hands in his hair, Hermione pulled Severus closer to her.

It was her soft moan that reminded Severus of who the delectable woman in his arms was. It took significant self-control, more than he would ever admit, for him to disentangle himself from the disgruntled Hermione. "I can't – we really should not be doing this."

Hermione grumbled disapprovingly, "Do enlighten on exactly why that is, because I mostly definitely wanted to be doing that and by-gods you definitely seemed to want to –"

Severus ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at the temptress before him, "Of course I did, but –"

"Then what's the problem?"

"You were my student –"

"And you were my professor, but that really has not been the case for several years now, Severus." She reached out to him, placing her hand over his. They both looked at their hands, and when he did not flinch from her touch, she though it safe to continue speaking, "It does not bother me that you were my teacher –"

"Hermione, I am old enough to be your father –" At that she smiled up at him. It was a small smile. It was reassuring. As was the small squeeze she gave his hand.

"Well, I do already have a father, so that post is not open." Her attempt to lighten the mood did not go unnoticed, and nor did his miniscule smirk.

"Severus, will you please stop agonising and just kiss me." She was sincere and he was not going to deny her this. In an instant his mouth descended upon hers softly at first and then with revitalised vigour. And nor was he going to deny himself this.

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**A/N: Please read and review!**


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